


staring politely through the window (don't let the sky fade to gray)

by lilacdreamer039



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Kyle Walker Needs a Hug, M/M, Unrequited Love, like asap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacdreamer039/pseuds/lilacdreamer039
Summary: Kyle doesn't understand it at first, simply knows that he feels as though his heart may break when he sees John looking at Ross like he's hung the moon and Ross looks back like he's the sun, feels his heart breaking each time John comes to training with dark purple marks on his skin that he cannot cover, a crimson blush on his cheeks and his red lips smiling softly.He understands it when he starts coughing up petals and his lips stain with blood every single moment of his life.





	staring politely through the window (don't let the sky fade to gray)

**Author's Note:**

> oh boyyyy you guys this is probably one of the saddest things i've ever written even though there's no character death in this. ok but guys i actually spent so much time debating if i should post it or not, but you know what screw it i posted it anyway. anyways, hanahaki disease is a fictional sickness where a person begins to cough up flower petals due to unrequited love and end up dying from it, and the only cure is a surgery that somehow get rids of the sickness but it takes all the romantic feelings they have towards the person away.

He loves him. _O_ _h_ , how Kyle loves him. Going to training each morning and seeing John’s beautiful face for several hours is all he needs to be happy, and knowing that he's there next to Kyle for the matches reassures Kyle more than John will ever know.

Kyle sees them of course, the brief looks across the field and the shy smiles at one another. He's seen the photos, couldn't resist the urge despite the bile threatening to spill from his mouth with every image he saw. He doesn't understand it at first, simply knows that he feels as though his world will fall when he sees John looking at Ross like he's hung the moon and Ross looks back like he's the sun, feels his heart breaking each time John comes to training with dark purple marks on his skin that he cannot cover, a crimson blush on his cheeks and his red lips smiling softly.

He understands it when he starts coughing up petals and his lips stain with blood every single moment of his life.

Once, Kyle had hoped for a possibility, had hoped for John to turn his eyes away and kiss him instead of spending his nights with Ross Barkley.

But he never had a chance, not next to Everton’s own wonderboy. And it hurts.

_Oh, how it hurts._

Kyle stares down at the bloodied white petals, comprehending. White like the snow falling from the grey sky each winter, like the rose of York, the nickname of the boy that has cursed him to an early grave. Kyle knows, of course. It’s got to be John, born in Barnsley of South Yorkshire, ( _of course it’s John_ , his mind screeches, _who else have you loved_ ) it has to be. His throat feels like it’s on fire and there’s someone stabbing him over and over again in his jugular, and Kyle’s suddenly grateful he’s sitting alone in the locker room.

John had been preoccupied this morning, told him that he didn’t need Kyle to pick him up and drive him to training. There had been a low grumble over the phone, some background words that Kyle couldn’t pick up due to the Scouse accent that was so damn recognizable, and then John had laughed before hanging up.

Kyle sits there for a while, doesn’t know how long he just stares at the wall blankly, clutching petals in his hand that are now coated with red blood. His blood.

He loves John, a stubborn little love that will never go away despite the impossible chance it has of being returned, and now he’s paying for it in the worst way possible.

They say love is a beautiful thing, and that to have loved you have won in life. But Kyle holds his life, can feel it slowly slipping away, and he thinks love is a cursed thing, a criminal thing.

_And his sentence is death._

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

He gets through a month of coughing them up privately before he starts showing the symptoms it’s taken on his body when he gets winded in training after running a few laps.

“Kyle!” Pep shouts from across the grounds, “Get up!” Kyle wishes he could, but oh fuck, his eyes are burning and his throat hurts like hell.

A warm hand is on his back, and the gentle touch is enough to tell Kyle who it is. Kyle nearly shivers, feels the urge to lean into the hand. “Are you alright?” John asks, giving him a soft smile and his eyes warm. Kyle could lean in now, kiss John and perhaps make the disease go away. He could. But he doesn’t.

Because John loves Ross Barkley and Ross loves John back, and he’d be a shitty teammate if he took them away from each other. He’s seen how John sobs to Dele Alli during international break when Ross isn’t there, has seen Gary Cahill and Eric Dier exchange glances during matches when John looks off into the midfield forlornly, as if searching for something that cannot be found. Kyle remembers nights where John would smile at a glowing phone screen, his laugh haunting Kyle into his sleep.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Kyle says breathlessly, and John gives him a soft nod. Everything about him is so damn perfect, from the way he talks and his graceful movements, to the way clothes seem to fit his slender frame wonderfully. If John was a girl, Kyle thinks he would’ve become the queen.

He must be so beautiful to look at in the night, when the moon is shining on him and he’s sleeping peacefully. Kyle would do anything for just one chance, just one time together. But John and his gentleness are not meant for him. They’re meant for a midfielder who’s had to say goodbye to all his friends year after year and is hated on by his own people, and if only Ross Barkley wasn’t a nicer man, Kyle might’ve tried to steal John away. Fate has its’ own ways though, and Kyle thinks he’s never met a kinder person than Ross. He doesn’t bitch around, accepts the things life has dealt him, and despite some terrible tackling abilities and some poor decision making, there are no faults in him personality wise.

Kyle aches for John, but he is Ross Barkley’s, belongs to a bed in a house in Liverpool somewhere. He could never overwrite years of soft gazes and quiet kisses, could never replace the royal blue half of John’s heart and turn it into white. And even though his love is damned, Kyle likes Ross too much to do that to him.

He’s not going to let him suffer through this plague too. There’s already one too many a person suffering from the white petals of a Barnsley boy. Kyle doesn’t think he could bear it if he saw Ross go through this.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

It’s Joe Hart who figures it out of everyone first, during international break. They’re in the midst of a private practice, and Kyle’s sitting on the ground next to Ryan Bertrand, watching John rake his delicate fingers in Ross’ russet curls, the Scouser’s head in his lap. Dele Alli and Eric Dier are doing the same thing next to them, and Ryan scrunches his face as John and Dele share a knowing smile, listening to their respective boyfriend argue about how Anthony Taylor is a worse referee than Mike Dean. The core four, together at last after some absences by Ross. Dele looks overjoyed to have his fellow midfielder back and Eric has been running around the hotel making fun of John and Dele with Ross, and John just looks blissfully happy. How could Kyle ruin that?

“I’m happy for the four of them, but good god they’re going to make me throw up,” Ryan chuckles, and Kyle tries to smile good-heartedly.

“Me too,” Kyle says flatly, though thankfully Ryan doesn’t notice. The blonde goalkeeper behind them does, though, and it’s as Kyle walking out of his bathroom stall later that Joe speaks up.

“How long have you been in love with John?” Joe asks, and Kyle’s head snaps up, making a move to hide his bloody hand. It doesn’t escape Joe’s notice.

“I’m not,” Kyle says, just as Joe speaks up.

“What’s in your hand?”

“Nothing,” Kyle replies, panicking. No one can find out about his condition. He hasn’t even told his family or Pep, or the board.

“Let me see,” Joe insists, and Kyle moves his hand away from the taller man.

“Don’t touch me - ”

“Clearly, it’s something you’re hiding. What did you do? Did you steal something, or - ”

 _Damn it_ , Kyle thinks, as he feels the coughs start up again. He turns, trying to walk away when he doubles over. Joe’s hands are on his back, pounding as Kyle chokes up more petals.

“Really, Kyle, what did you - ” Joe’s words die as he looks at Kyle, seeing the petals in his bloody hands. He’s speechless for a moment. “Kyle…”

“Don’t say anything,” Kyle pleads, “I’m begging you.”

“But. You’re dying, Kyle! I can’t just - ”

“ _Please_ ,” Kyle says, surprised to find tears coming to his eyes, “No one can find out.”

“Kyle,” Joe whispers, and his eyes are genuinely sad. “You’ve got to do something, mate. Pep may hate me all he wants, but he cannot forbid me from wanting City to do well, and they need you.”

“I might get the surgery,” Kyle confides, and he’s surprised at himself. He’s thought of it, of course, but he’s never considered it as a possibility. “People say it’s better to have loved and lost, but - ”

“John’s a special boy,” Joe finishes, and Kyle gives him a questioning look. “Everyone has been wondering if there’s something more, though John is with, _you know_ , Ross. He’s a good boy, beautiful and gentle, but is love really worth losing your life over? A love that will never be returned?” For once, Kyle has nothing to say, instead staring at the blonde goalkeeper with dried blood on his hands, and Joe gives him a sigh. “I won’t tell anyone, but if you keep continuing down this path I will tell someone.”

“Thank you,” Kyle murmurs, turning to wash his hands. _Get the surgery_ , his mind whispers, _get the surgery and forget your feelings_.

That night at dinner, Kyle sees John whisper something in Ross’ ear to which the Evertonian laughs gaily at, and John’s mouth curls upwards, eyes shining. Dele coos and makes out with Eric in front of the whole table, to which half the team grimaces.

“We’re happy for you, we really are,” Harry Kane says, “But can the four of you just go off and eat alone on a double date or something? We’re too dead inside for this.”

“You sound like a high schooler,” Dele retorts, and the whole squad laughs. That is, except for John and Ross, who are too caught up in one another, looking at each other with tender loving gazes. Kyle feels sick to his stomach, and he takes a quick sip of his wine to hopefully postpone the purge of flowers he feels coming up his throat. Joe gives him a knowing glance from where he sits.

It’s easier to ignore the truth when John is with him and Ross is in the Merseyside, makes it easier for Kyle to pretend that John is with him and he’s not coughing up bloodied petals more frequently with each passing day his love turns into something more dangerous.

But on international duty, the truth is visible for his eyes and all to see. Kyle loves John, John loves Ross, and Ross loves John. There’s no room for him in John’s heart.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

Then Leroy and Sergio find out, and if Joe’s look of sadness had punched him in the gut, then their reactions feel as though his insides have been punctured and stabbed twenty times over.

“But...we must do something!” Leroy exclaims, and he is still a child, _still a child and so naive and innocent_ , no matter how good he is.

“There’s no cure besides a surgery, Leroy, and it's impossible to get a surgery right now with the season going on,” Sergio explains, and Leroy shakes his head petulantly, like a toddler refusing to go to bed at the right time, defiant and refusing to accept the truth. “No one knows how far along Kyle’s disease has spread - ”

“No. I won’t allow it!” Leroy turns to him with pleading eyes, and Kyle sees the wilt in his facial expression, just like the way his petals all seem to die after a few moments of exposure into the world. “Please Kyle, _please_ , you have to get the surgery. If not for yourself then for me, for our teammates, for our fans. Please, no one wants to wake up one morning and find out you’ve died in a bed of white roses.”

“Who is it?” Sergio asks quietly, and Leroy looks up confused. “It’s John, isn’t it?”

Kyle has no choice but to nod, and Leroy’s eyes turn wild. “Then we have to find him! And make him love you! This isn’t acceptable, I - ”

“ _No_ , you will not. Leave John and his love life alone,” Kyle exclaims, harsher than he intended, and Leroy looks deflated.

“But it’s not fair. You love John, why doesn’t he love you back? You’re always spending so much time around each other, he should be in love with you,” Leroy says softly, tears in his eyes.

“ _Love isn’t fair_ ,” Kyle remarks, giving them both a sad look. “You can’t say anything, Leroy. Let John be happy with his love. I’ll get the surgery done during break, I promise. I’ll feign an ankle injury or something.”

Leroy just sighs before leaving, and Sergio looks at him. “I promise, it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t.”

Sergio’s eyes show his broken heart, shows Sergio with a mess of garnet flowers in his hand, his sky painted Argentinean blue and white, shows Sergio’s whole world in a man’s smile before it all turned to thunder and darkness, and Kyle simply nods. Sergio’s been there.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“Where’s John?” Kevin de Bruyne asks up after the match against Everton as the team stands in front of the bus, and Vincent grimaces, giving Kyle a sad look. The captain’s been alerted of his condition, and Kyle looks up at the dark windows, wonders how the world seems to know how his soul is. He saw the way Ross had smiled at John across the pitch, how their two hands had stuck together longer than necessary when they clasped hands, how their eyes had lingered on one another. Kyle had been right there when Ross scored the equalizer at last second, and he’d almost made a move to comfort John as he saw the sad look but paused when he saw the bright eyes were twinkling happily.

“There’ll be no need for his transportation tonight. He’s staying in Liverpool,” Vincent explains, and even though the words don’t surprise Kyle, it still knocks the wind out of him.

“Excuse me,” Kyle whispers, trying not to let anyone see his face as he rushes to the bathroom on the bus. After the coughs have racked his body and there’s a mess of bloody flowers around him, looking into the mirror and seeing nothing but empty eyes and a obvious fake smile, he knows he’s got to do something.

But he can’t. To erase all memories of his love for John, John and his angelic facial features, brown hair and light eyes that are always shining, lips a pretty pink that Kyle wants to kiss, it would be like erasing a part of himself. It would be taking away memories of jokes and touches that had sent his heart fluttering, getting rid of laughter over FIFA and the way John’s fingers seem to curl perfectly around his utensils at meals together.

 _Don’t you think that’s how his fingers look when they’re curled around - no_ , Kyle thinks as he places his hands on the wall to steady himself. _John loves Ross_ , his mind chants treacherously, _they’re probably already kissing in Ross’ car_ , and before he can stop it he’s having visions of John’s plump lips on Ross’, legs wrapped around Ross and soft hands on the muscular arms, or even worse, lying underneath Ross in the backseat and -

The coughs start again, and Kyle retches over the sink, throat squeezing painfully as he practically barfs up the familiar white tinged with crimson. When he looks up again, the sink is red, red like a scene out of a murder, and Kyle knows he has to get the surgery done.

Because here, when he’s alone and isolated, blood dripping from his mouth into the cold wet sink below, is when he feels Ross Barkley haunting his life the most.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“I don’t want to do it,” Kyle mutters, even as Leroy holds his hand encouragingly and Sergio gives him a soft look.

“You know you have to,” Leroy says, so young and so mature already. “Please, Kyle. You’re more important to us alive than dead.”

“We need you to pull through,” Sergio chastises, “So you will be getting that surgery to live.”

“Does John know?” Kyle asks, as he’s wheeled away.

“No,” Leroy replies, “He doesn’t. No one told him.”

“Good,” Kyle responds, “Keep it that way. I’m begging you, he can’t know. It would ruin him.” His two teammates nod, understanding in their eyes.

He sees John, sees the smiles and the light touches and the way John’s eyes had sparkled after he scored two goals in the Champions League against Feyenoord, and then all of a sudden it’s gone, swept away like a bottle in the ocean.

When he awakes, he feels nothing. Nothing at all. The doctors all smile and clap, nodding appreciatively of their work as he talks. “Friendship, teammates, um, I feel like we’re pretty good acquaintances.” There’s no feelings of happiness or love when they mention John and he describes how he feels.

He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing like the doctors all say it is, because now his heart is empty and there will be no rebuilding it back together.

 

 

 

+

 

 

 

“You okay?” John asks, two weeks after his surgery and a hand on his back.

This time, Kyle looks up at that face and sees nothing. “Yeah, mate, I’m great.”

“That’s good,” John grins, offering him a hand. The sleeve is too big and Kyle makes out a faint purple on his shoulder. Before, he would have shuddered, but now all he does is regard John with an eyebrow.

“Did you spend the night with Ross?”

John blushes, pulling up his sleeve. “Maybe,” His fellow Yorkshire boy says, before walking away. “Come on, want to be partners today?”

Kyle looks after him and feels nothing but emptiness, and his heart feels so hollow.

And that’s when Kyle knows, however horrible as it sounds, that he wishes he was still coughing up blood stained petals and that his heart was still beating quicker each time he was in John’s presence. Because he would rather have died a tragic death for love than live his life as he is now, a stone replica where his feelings used to be and trudging through his days with no purpose left.

He gets his wish, when the blood starts pouring and the petals come even quicker, more painful than ever.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah that is an open ending y'all can decide if kyle lives or dies after getting it for the second time 
> 
> references: 
> 
> 1\. John Stones was born and raised in Barnsley, South Yorkshire, and played for Barnsley FC's academy/first team for years before moving to Everton in January 2013, and Kyle Walker was born in Sheffield, South Yorkshire.  
> 2\. John and Ross were besties back at Everton before John left for City and that's all you need to know haha (Ross posted a goodbye message to John and John responded and it broke my heart)  
> 3\. Dele, Eric, John, and Ross literally spent all their time together at the Euros and they also celebrated John's bday together on international break so i'm assuming they're all friends (Dele and Eric both posted an pic on Insta of the four of them together check it out)  
> 4\. The bad tackles by Ross Barkley that are talked in this fic about are the challenges he made on Jordan Henderson and Dejan Lovren in the Merseyside derby games last season. Both tackles were very controversial and many felt that he should've gotten a red card both times.  
> 5\. Kyle and John are now besties at Manchester City ok bye  
> 6\. the Sergio part is me implying that Sergio had an unrequited love for Leo Messi, hence the 'Argentinean blue and white' and the garnet flowers part bc Leo loves Barca and garnet is one of Barca's colors  
> 7\. Ross broke his leg in a U-19 international match when he was 16 and people said he wouldn't be able to play again but he ended up recovering  
> 8\. Ross Barkley hasn't been called up to a few international squads since the Euros and John actually said, "I’ve not seen Ross for a while and it’s tough because I was close to him at Everton," last year when Ross missed out on Gareth Southgate's first squad so there's that  
> 9\. The white rose of York was the symbol of House York, a noble House of England during the infamous Wars of the Roses, a civil war of England in which figures like Margaret of Anjou, Elizabeth Woodville, Richard III, and the Princes in the Tower lived and were major players in.
> 
>  
> 
> i'm so sorry you all had to read through that mess omg but like i actually love all of you for reading?? like wow if you read through that whole fictional you deserve a prize or something bc i can't write hahaha.


End file.
